At night he never went out, for the streets were thronged with hundreds of people of the rival factions, bent on “cutting and murdering one another; . . . for every Spaniard is by nature a cruel, cowardly tiger. Nothing is more common than to destroy a whole town, putting man, woman, and child to death, because two or three of the inhabitants have been obnoxious.” { 168d} Thus he wrote to his mother, all-unconscious of the anxiety and alarm that he was causing her lest he, her dear George, should be one of the cut or murdered.
Later, Borrow seems to have revised his opinion of Madrid and of its inhabitants. He confesses that of all the cities he has known Madrid interested him the most, not on account of its public buildings, squares or fountains, for these are surpassed in other cities; but because of its population. “Within a mud wall scarcely one league and a half in circuit, are contained two hundred thousand human beings, certainly forming the most extraordinary vital mass to be found in the entire world.” { 169} In the upper classes he had little interest. He mixed but little with them, and what he saw did not impress him favourably. It was the Spaniard of the lower orders that attracted him. He regarded this class as composed not of common beings, but of extraordinary men. He admired their spirit of proud independence, and forgave them their ignorance. His first impressions of Spain had been unfavourable because, as a stranger, he had been victimised by the amiable citizens, who were merely doing as their fathers had done before them. Once, however, he got to know them, he regarded with more indulgence their constitutional dishonesty towards the stranger, a weakness they possessed in common with the gypsies, and hailed them as “extraordinary men.” Borrow’s impulsiveness frequently led him to ill-considered and hasty conclusions, which, however, he never hesitated to correct, if he saw need for correction.
The disappointment he experienced as regards Madrid and the Spaniards is not difficult to understand. He arrived quite friendless and without letters of introduction, to find the city given over to the dissensions and strifes of the supporters of Isabel II. and Don Carlos. His journey had been undertaken in “the hope of obtaining permission from the Government to print the New Testament in the Castilian language, without the notes insisted on by the Spanish clergy, for circulation in Spain,” and there seemed small chance of those responsible for the direction of affairs listening to the application of a foreigner for permission to print the unannotated Scriptures. For one thing, any acquiescence in such a suggestion would draw forth from the priesthood bitter reproaches and, most probably, active and serious opposition. It is only natural that despondency should occasionally seize upon him who sought to light the lamp of truth amidst such tempests.